Hope: Bright Like the Sun
by Virodeil
Summary: When Space and Time Dissolve series. Slight crossover with Silmarillion. Ginny Weasley was not truly alone during the wreckage of her first year at Hogwarts. Someone was there for her to fight Tom Riddle; someone as bright as the sun, and more...


About the series: "When Space and Time Dissolve" is a collection of one-shots and short stories which marries – or tries to do so – some characters and events from Rowling's and Tolkien's universes. There is no spite intended to both authors and their works by this act, only fun and enjoyment. Readers are welcome to suggest ideas; subsequently, said ideas will duely be credited if used. So far I already have about 55 ideas listed on my own.

Summary: Ginny Weasley was not truly alone during the wreckage of her first year at Hogwarts. Someone was there for her when Tom Riddle tried to seduce and possess her; someone as bright as the sun, and more; someone who gave her hope unending, faith enduring.

Word Count (according to MS Word): 1,662

Point of View: Ginny Weasley, third person limited, past tense

Rating: PG-13/K+

Warning: mini spoiler of Deathly Hallows, hints of the possession of Tom Riddle's Horcrux over Ginny

Genre: Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery

Story Notes: A very belated Christmas present for you all. An attempt to set an interaction between two fiery spirits. (Guess who the "bright girl" is…)

**Hope: Bright ****Like the Sun**

The girl was a few years older than she was, Ginny noted, judged only by the graceful curves of her body. In passing inspection, the stranger by the lake looked remarkably like a Weasley. But Ginny was sure no relative of hers was as beautiful and other-wordly as the older girl was.

Their eyes met, and Ginny felt drawn towards the stranger, inexorably. It was hard to gaze into those amber orbs, so fiery and full of life, and yet so easy. Her spirit, often restless and more curious than allowed (said her family), was both mirrored and eclipsed at the same time by the older girl. Jealousy bloomed in her like a poison, but it was quickly quenched by the fact that she could never compare to such a bright and vast spirit.

So pure, so warm, like sunlight.

And Ginny found herself dancing and giggling with the older girl by the lake, until the school bell called her to class.

Tom Riddle was so, so charming. But he was as dark as her silent, graceful friend was bright. Ginny never talked about that new friend of hers to him, somehow wanting to keep the friendship a secret. After all, she could sense that Tom hid many things from her. (Many terrible things, perhaps, but she was too grateful for his company to rebuke him or fish those secrets from the depths of his book-mind.) She had been writing to him since the summer holiday, and more now, as she started school for the first time in her life. Many people teased and mocked her about her second-hand everything, and Tom knew it perfectly, being a penniless orphan, fifty years ago. Tom soothed her like no one else could.

But when she had a time alone again, during the lunch break, she found the older girl on the same spot by the lake, and those amber eyes were gazing thoughtfully at her. Ginny grinned and ran towards her bright, bright friend, opening her arms wide. It was what she imagined hugging the sun like, or sunlight solidified into the curves of a young woman. And it was so peaceful, and freeing, and she found her mouth running off without her brain, telling the older girl all her thoughts and dreams and problems.

And the vast spirit wove her warm, gentle way into her heart, her soul, filling in the holes Ginny had never been aware of.

They spent the day dancing and skipping around the lake, and Ginny did not mind the detention given by Professor McGonagall later for forgetting to attend Transfiguration.

Tom, though, acted distant when she wrote about her experience that day (excluding the time spent with her bright friend) in the little diary book that night, and that bothered her. She pestered him about it, but Tom evaded her questions skilfully and instead barraged her with retaliatory questions.

Only later, as she tossed around in her bed, unable to sleep, did she realise that she had revealed the secret of her new friendship to him. It was her last thought, before he became aware of herself – and the blood and chicken feathers on her night-dress – early the next morning.

She waited for her friend by the lake during the breaks and after school, but the older girl did not come. That night, she poured her thoughts into the little diary book she kept in her school-bag, writing until her fingers cramped and the hours had moved past midnight.

The next day, she woke up laid on top of her made bed, in the school robes from the previous day, which had paint stains on its front. And like the previous occurance, she had no memory of killing some chickens or painting something.

Later in the day, though, she passed by the broken toilet on the second floor, and found words on the wall written by paint of the same colour as which had stained her robes. – "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware."

She fled back to the safety of her dorm room, ribbed open her school-bag, and reported her findings to Tom.

She forgot to check if her bright friend visited the lake that day. Her mind was clouded, perhaps by anxiety and fear and confusion. It was perfectly normal, she told herself. But she could not tell anyone else. They would ask Tom and Tom might reveal her secrets to them! But Tom himself was getting unnerving too. Day by day, conversing with him became more like talking to a slimy snake which was ready to strangle her.

She got rid of the diary book in the broken toilet on the second floor. And for several days, she was free.

For several days, until she saw Harry – her early-childhood idol and crush – keeping the diary book in his school-bag. He must not read what was inside!

That night, she snuck up the stairs to the boys' dormitories and into the room Harry and his yearmates occupied. She rummaged in it frantically, praying that she was not too late and she would find the book.

And she did find it, before the occupants of the room returned from whatever boys do before curview. Without any pause, she fled the room and back into the sanctuary of her own. She wrote to Tom to check if he had revealed anything to anyone, slipping in an apology that she had tried to get rid of him as a peace offering, and he said he had not spoken to anyone except she.

Her relief was evident, but hollow. It was hard to feel any emotions lately…

The days afterwards saw Ginny more and more hollow inside, as if an old oak made into a den by small creatures. She could not sleep well at night, fearing that her mind would lapse and she would wake up having done something horrible. But her vigilance was futile, as she had found herself coming back to awareness standing in a corridor by petrified students (and one ghost of the Gryffindor Tower). Always, she would ran back to the safety of her dorm room, and always, she would seek comfort from Tom.

The end of the year was closing in on her, but Ginny found she could not feel any anxiety or trepidation about the approaching exams. Her school achievements were poor, but she could not care less about them. She responded to the concerns of her family members as if an animated rock-puppy her eldest brother Bill had showed her years ago. And she could not feel excited either when the last Quidditch game of the year arrived.

But a part of her whispered that it was the time… The time for what?

She looked out of the window of her dorm room, straining to see the lake afar.

And she was there, on the same spot, her bright-haired, bright-eyed friend. Warmth spread all over her being on the thought that her long-missed friend was finally back. But a darkness inside of her tried to quench it, hissing that the older girl did not deserve the title friend, having left her for so long.

Then, Ginny felt as if her eyes were locking gaze with someone elses', a very familiar someone, and a word resounded sweetly in her mind: hope.

And she knew no more.

Tendrals of light and darkness battled within her, tearing her apart and patching her up again, fighting for dominance. But the word never left her all along, and she held onto it like a drowning person to a driftwood. – Hope.

Hope of warm brightness. Hope of swimming in the welcoming embrace of a vast, gentle spirit. Hope of salvation…

Her eyes opened to the concerned stare of bespectacled green orbs. The darkness had fled, and there was only gentle, peaceful brightness inside of her. The ordeal had left her shaky, though, and she was all too glad to be finally brought out of the dark, gloomy cavern into the arms of her family.

And she was too glad to have her emotions back, although it also meant suffering from shame and guilt and indignation when her father and mother took turns berating her carelessness in speaking with a suspicious magical object.

She stole away from the end-of-year feast as dawn broke over the eastern horizon. Her bright, nameless friend, she wanted to meet her. Perhaps for the last time? She had not been a good friend, forsaking their friendship so easily for the treacherous, dangerous Tom Riddle…

But her friend was not on the spot by the lake. Instead, a patch of yellow star-shaped flowers nodded and swayed happily in the early morning breeze. So like herself and the older girl when they danced to the tunes of the wind…

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the little flowers, as warm and welcoming as her friend. Her absent friend. –

She started. A beam of sunlight caressed her cheek, as if the gentle fingers of her friend, soothing her as she told her about one of her dormmates mocking her patched, ratty underware peeking out of her wardrobe.

The beam of light moved, hugging and caressing her petite form, warming her, and the wind ruffled her hair playfully.

Ginny looked up at the patch of morning sun visible between the jagged mountaintops and the rising fog. She would swear it was twinkling warmly at her.

She smiled back, and a tear rolled down her left cheek.

And the beam of light was there, and the wind also, as if to erase the lone drop of liquid.

Ginny knelt on the grass, arched herself backwards, and opened her arms wide. Laughing, she hugged the sun back.

She was there, her friend, if invisible. Hope; she had hope that they would meet again, even if it was in the end of her life.

The sun shone extra bright that day, minus the scorching heat.


End file.
